Surviving and Sea Salt
by Syrasha
Summary: Somber, but unable to keep his voice from cracking, Finnick whispered, "Yeah. I know, Katniss. Believe me, I know."


**...I don't really know where this came from. I had been having this want to write Hunger Games fanfiction for a really long time, and I finally stepped up and did it. This is an odd one-shot; it's sort of FinnickXKatniss, but not really. You'll have to read on to see what I mean.**

**&&I don't own the Hunger Games Trilogy&&  
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Twist, roll, tighten.

Finnick Odair was a lot of things: attractive, intelligent, humorous, and even kind. One thing he was _not_ was crazy.

That was Annie. And he missed her like, well… to be redundant, he missed her like crazy. Her smile, her eyes, the way she glowed whenever they touched, and the feeling she gave him despite the fact that his second Games had broke him in a way that could never be described.

And honestly, that was probably the reason Finnick so much enjoyed Katniss's company. She was a victor; she lived through many of the same things he had; she had no qualms for letting loose with the bloody, gory, truth, no matter how disgusting it was.

Circle, loop, pull tight.

District Four and District Twelve were atrociously far away from each other, and Katniss was the only good thing to have come out of Finnick's entire experience regarding the Capitol. The sale of his body had been horrendous, and it disgusted him in such a way that could only be contained with a fake smile and a touch of humor reminiscent of the Finnick Odair from five, ten, fifteen, or fifty years gone past.

He and Katniss had lived a thousand lifetimes, what with the pain they two had gone through.

Thread, loosen, drop.

And as he sat there with her, making small talk and tying knots on a rope that had given way to burns that covered his hands, Finnick knew that if he had met Katniss earlier, without Annie having been on his mind, that they two would have been almost meant for each other.

But God only knew that Katniss Everdeen didn't need another thing on her mind, and Finnick Odair was certainly too much of a mess for her to handle with Gale Hawthorne and Peeta Mellark already on the brain. With a smirk that probably reminded Katniss of a time before she caught fire, it registered in Finnick's mind that the Hawthorne boy was most certainly already watching. As soon as the thought crossed his stream of consciousness, he felt the burning gaze of the eighteen-year-old upon him. Katniss had certainly caught his attention as she crawled from the Everdeen family space over to where Finnick had taken temporary respite.

Glance, burn, remember.

The rope was supposed to make him _forget_ his sorrows, but having Katniss in his presence only brought memories rushing back. Every moment spent with the teenager had Annie coming back in waves, just like the waters of District Four crashed upon the shores.

A kiss. A hug. The smell of salt on her lips that came from getting to close to her face with his own –

Finnick Odair was gone, away in his own world, the rope he'd been tying knots in forgotten in his hands; reality only came rushing back as Katniss, who he'd been sitting with in silence, quietly said, "Finnick… I miss Peeta."

The dream world Finnick had created, his own of threads of memory weaving together with the fantasy that was reuniting with Annie, was infiltrated by thoughts of Katniss, and her bravery, and how selfish it was for they two to waste all their time praying that Peeta and Annie would come back.

Somber, but unable to keep his voice from cracking, Finnick whispered, "Yeah. I know, Katniss. Believe me, I know."

Loop, tighten grip, clench teeth.

Looking Katniss over as they fell into quiet once again, Finnick tried to size her up – as if he could process all that Katniss was within those few moments. She wasn't really very pretty, but she still managed to somehow retain a sense of beauty, despite the sweat that was running down her brow due to the body heat that was warming the bomb shelter. Her mental processes were a total mystery, to everyone; God only knew that Gale Hawthorne, who was still staring daggers into Finnick's back, wondered every moment of every day what was going through Katniss's head.

Katniss blinked once, pausing long enough with her rope to realize that Finnick seemed to have slipped away from her once more. His eyes, though fixed on her, had clouded over, a murky and disquieting haze over them.

"…" Katniss thought briefly of speaking, but even if she had, Finnick likely wouldn't have heard her.

Annie, Katniss, waves of red.

His mind was firing dangerously, in a way it hadn't for a time; it was almost as if the Games were upon Finnick once again, so was his mindset. Finnick's eyes flicked from side to side – Annie, Katniss, survive, sea salt.

Finnick had stopped all movement of the rope in his hands, and sanity barely lingered in his composure. Katniss reached out, grabbing his wrist with her hand, saying, "Finnick!"

And with that word, Finnick pulled her close, arms tight around the girl's body. Katniss locked up in shock for a moment before gently hugging the man back. "It'll be okay, Finnick. I promise. It'll be okay."

The words floated into Finnick's head, and without warning he pulled back without releasing Katniss from his arms. For a brief moment, shock registered in Katniss's eyes, but before Finnick could stop himself he leaned in once again, kissing her fiercely for all of a second or two.

Katniss didn't protest, but in her defense she really didn't have time to do so. Finnick pulled away from the kiss but brought Katniss close in his arms, stroking her head, and feeling her breathe.

"It'll be okay, Annie. It'll all be okay. I promise. Things will get better. We've always gotten through them before, haven't we?" The dark-skinned girl and Annie had become one in Finnick's mind, reality being crueler to the District Four man than Katniss could have imagined.

And in an almost uncharacteristic display of compassion, Katniss Everdeen played along with the charade, whispering, "It'll be okay, Finnick. I promise it'll be okay," even as Gale Hawthorne stared daggers into the beautifully broken and irreparably lost Finnick Odair.

Drop, break down, cry.


End file.
